


Screwed

by Kristinaa_207



Category: Bucky Barnes - Fandom, James “Bucky” Barnes - Fandom, MCU, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Winter Soldier - Fandom, james barnes - Fandom
Genre: Bad Jokes, Bucky’s kind of a slut, F/M, Hot Pockets, Mentions of Masturbation, Oral Sex, Roommates, a little angst because of miscommunication, but I promise it’s just once, but we love him anyway, but you’ll live, kinda gross description of a male orgasm, mild drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-11
Updated: 2018-05-20
Packaged: 2019-05-05 02:41:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 15,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14607501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kristinaa_207/pseuds/Kristinaa_207
Summary: You and Bucky had been friends and roommates for the past year, both agreeing not to complicate things by engaging in a sexual relationship. But what happens when you find yourself falling for the one guy who is off limits?





	1. Chapter 1

**Saturday Night**

 

Bucky’s keys land with a loud clang on the counter just moments before the door shuts behind him. He makes his way lazily across the kitchen, kicking off his shoes and tossing his jacket in the direction of the arm chair as he enters the living room. You barely look away from your movie as he flops down heavily onto the couch beside you, lying on his side to put his head in your lap. 

“You're home early,” he says as your hands instinctively move to play with his hair. “How was your date?”

“Meh,” you reply with a shrug, smiling when Bucky flinches as your finger get snagged in a knot. “Uneventful. How’s Nat?”

Bucky reaches for the bowl of popcorn, setting it on the floor in front of him. He shoves a huge handful in his mouth before answering. “Good. Same. Watching this shit again?”

You tug on his hair and he laughs. “Fuck off, you know I’m Channing Tatum trash.” You keep your eyes glued to the big screen as a Channing dances suggestively with his face in the lap of some lucky girl. “Besides, this is Magic Mike  _ 2 _ , so it's different.” 

Bucky chuckles. “I can't believe they made more than one of these.”

When you look down at him, he's resting comfortably; silently finishing off your popcorn as he begrudgingly watches the rest of the movie with you. When the daylight on the screen emits a brighter glow, you notice that Bucky’s sporting a few small love bites on his neck. With a roll of your eyes, you poke at them, counting out loud. 

“ _ Five _ hickeys?! Christ, Buck, did Natasha turn into a vampire since last weekend?”

He bats your hand away, rubbing his palm on the marked skin. “Oh, yeah, I'm gonna have to use your makeup if these don't fade by Monday.”

“I'm gonna fill your Christmas stocking with concealer so you can stop using mine.”

“Shut up,” he says, tucking his neck into his shoulders like a turtle when you poke at them again. “You're just jealous you didn't get any.”

“Yeah, you caught me. I sure do wish someone latched their mouth to  _ my _ neck and sucked bruises into  _ my _ skin.”

He has no answer to this, instead just grabs your hand and sets it on top of his head, wordlessly telling you to play with his hair again. You give in, weaving your fingers through the soft strands as the two of you finish the movie and head to bed. 

Typical Saturday night. 

 

**Tuesday Night**

 

Tuesdays are similar to Saturdays in the sense that Bucky has a regularly scheduled sex date, except this day is reserved for Wanda. 

Both ladies are aware of each other’s existence in Bucky’s life and neither of them seem to mind. They're both content with no-strings fucking on their scheduled day, and Bucky’s not bothered by either woman’s occasional fling with anyone else the rest of the week. 

Wanda, however, tends to be a little more needy than Natasha. She likes feeling a bit of an emotional connection to Bucky, enjoys the pillow talk and cuddling. So when Bucky walks in the door just after ten, you don't bother to hide your surprise. 

“Woooow, wasn't expecting to see you tonight,” you say, arching your neck over the back of the couch to try to see into the kitchen where your oversexed roommate raids the fridge. 

“You want a beer?” 

“I've got one, thanks.” You answer, watching him walk into the living room and settle on the couch. 

He taps the top of his beer can with his index finger three times before cracking it open, the sound echoing in the silence because you had paused the movie, awaiting explanation. Bucky sips his beer before realizing this; his eyes slowly sliding in your direction. 

“What?”

“It's ten-oh-eight.”

“Yes, good job.”

“ _ James _ .” 

Bucky shrugs, grabbing for, and snatching the remote. “I dunno, Wanda’s getting... _ clingy _ .” He points the remote at you. “I could say the same thing to you. Out with the same dude and home by ten?”

“Nine.”

“Jesus. What base are you on?” He asks, letting you have control of the remote again when you reach for it. 

“Oh, Bucko, I've barely come up to bat.” 

When you press play, Bucky snickers and you're not sure if it's due to Ron Burgundy attempting to explain away the huge boner in his pleated pants on the screen or the lack of affection from your date. 

“Date three on Friday,” you offer, noticing that while he's watching the movie, his smile is still firmly in place. “Everyone knows  _ that’s _ the sex date.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Friday Night / Saturday Morning**

 

When you left for your date tonight your mood was as perky as you’d made sure your tits were. You had even told Bucky not to bother waiting up for you, to which he rolled his eyes playfully, telling you to “go get ‘em”. 

That was five hours ago. 

It was just past one in the morning when you arrived back at your apartment, carrying your heels in your hands as you dragged your deflated self through the door. You dropped the shoes to the floor, the expensive pumps bouncing loudly on the tiles as you locked up. You set down your keys and grab a bottled water from the fridge before walking through the dark living room, intending on ending this night immediately. 

“Hey, how was it?” Bucky asks, voice thick with sleep. 

You start at the sound, whipping around to see his head peeking up over the back of the couch. He clears his throat and scratches his head, further messing his adorably rumpled hair. You groan your distaste for the subject, but head back his way anyway.

“Well, let’s see,” you start, counting off on your fingers. “He took me to a decent dinner where he proceeded to drink entirely too much wine, making him loud and embarrassing, then he shot the shit in the hallway with his neighbor for  _ twenty-five minutes _ before remembering I was inside waiting for him, and then we had sex.”

Bucky’s jaw clenched a bit at this but he recovered quickly. “And? Worth it?”

You sigh. “He poked and prodded with his fingers for a few seconds, completely avoiding my fun button like he was a gynecologist doing a friggin’ pelvic exam and then moved right into the fucking. If you can even call it that.” You take another large gulp of your water before continuing. “He literally just rammed his little penis inside of me a few times and--” you make a wet  _ ‘splat’ _ sound and Bucky’s face morphs from amused sympathy to pure disgust. 

“You’re gross,” he shudders, kicking off his blanket to stand up. “So I take it this dude is joining the other poor bastards who’ve failed to advance to your exclusive Date Number Four club?”

You let out a short, sharp laugh. “Uh, yeah. I waited for him to pass out in a post-coital haze before slipping out of bed. I left him a note, though, saying: ‘This isn't going to work for me. Please don't call.’”

This pleases Bucky, his first genuine smile appearing on his face since you’d left for your date. He lets out a low whistle. “Wanna drink about it?”

You finish off your water and shake your head. “Nah. I'm just gonna take a shower and head to bed for some quality time with my vibrator.” 

You wrap your arms around his waist and squeeze, surreptitiously inhaling his soft, warm scent to help fuel your upcoming activities. Truth be told, your go-to fantasies to get yourself off are usually some amalgamation of Bucky and whichever celebrity you're lusting after at the moment. 

“Night, Buck.”

Bucky says goodnight and watches your ass as you stroll towards the hallway, your shoulders slumped and feet dragging. He looks away the moment he realizes he's doing it, knowing thoughts like that won't get him anywhere.

The two of you had lived together for just over a year now, your casual hook-ups lasting just as long. A mutual friend of yours, Steve, had introduced you to each other when Bucky was in need of a place to stay and you were in need of a roommate to help pay the rent. While there had always been attraction between the two of you, you both thought it best not to rock the boat by sleeping together. 

Part of him feels bad for you being so unsatisfied, but he can't help but notice the part of him that's angry, jealous even, that you had sex with someone tonight. He's aware that this feeling makes him a hypocrite, knowing that since you tend to date differently than he does, that your sex life is significantly less active than his own. A fact he's always been content with.

As usual, Bucky does his best to tamp down those jealous feelings, though. Instead, he listens to the shower run and decides to clean up his mess in the living room so you wouldn't feel obligated to do it in the morning when you undoubtedly wake before him. Now that he knows you’re home safe, he can abandon his spot on the couch and head to his own bed. 

The bathroom door opens just as Bucky’s walking by, releasing a cloud of steam as you step out, wearing only a towel. Bucky has seen you like this many times; your comfort with each other easily rivaling that of a married couple of fifty years, but for some reason he felt the need to avert his eyes this time, breathing out a soft “sorry” as you pass.

You give him a questioning grin, raising an eyebrow at his sudden awkwardness. Bucky's mouth opens, intending to offer some assistance, but he snaps it shut, trapping the words that could potentially ruin your friendship and swallows them down. 

Clutching your towel at your chest with one hand, you give a small wave with the other before slipping into your bedroom, leaving Bucky alone in the deafening silence. He stands there for a moment longer, just staring at your door before he forces himself into the bathroom. 

Bucky mentally argues with his reflection in the foggy mirror as he brushes his teeth, weighing the pros and cons of offering himself-- _ his body _ \--to you tonight. Your friendship sits heavily on the con side while Bucky tries desperately to pile up the pros, but finds nothing more important than that. 

With his mind mostly made up, he rinses out his mouth and his brush, giving himself one last look in the mirror, finding his reflection much clearer than before. Using both hands, he slicks his dark hair back and inhaled deeply; the sweet scent of your body wash invading deeper into his senses, twisting and tainting his decision. 

Bucky turns off the bathroom light and heads straight for your bedroom. He listens for a moment, confirming you were, in fact, still awake when he hears your dresser drawer close and your closet door open. With his eyes closed he raises a closed fist, hovering just above the door momentarily before rapping his knuckles against the wood. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Friday Night / Saturday Morning still**

 

“It's open,” you call from inside your closet where you pull an oversized t-shirt over your head. When you step out, Bucky’s in your room, standing docily by the door.

He points, smirking. “I was wondering where that shirt went.”

You look down, smiling as you tug on the hem of his t-shirt. The name of the university only he had went to was written across your chest, there was no use in denying you stole it. 

“It was in with my laundry a little while back,” you shrug, finally looking back up to Bucky. “it's comfy.” 

Bucky doesn't say anything, just rubs a finger under his bottom lip as he looks you over. Your room is dimly lit, but you can still see him, and the look in his eyes reads as devious and hungry, but a bit unsure. He starts slowly towards you, confidence building when he isn't met with any resistance, stopping mere inches in front of you. 

“Did he wear a condom?” Bucky asks quietly, fingers from both hands slowly dragging up the bare skin of your thighs. 

Your breath hitches a bit when he reaches the bottom of your shirt, his hands slipping just under to settle on your hips. His eyes are locked on yours and you nod in answer to his question, your mind racing with possible reasons he asked. You inhale sharply when his fingers toy with your panty line, a slow smirk sliding across his face as he sinks down to his knees. 

Bucky lifts your shirt and you hold it for him, his hands circling around to cup your ass, pulling you closer to his face. He kisses low on your stomach and over to your hip before moving lower, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your cloth-covered sex.

“Bucky, oh my god,” you sigh, shifting to open your feet a bit while bracing one hand in his hair. He hums and you smile because he's always been a fan of his hair being played with. “You don't have to…”

He nuzzles his face against the apex of your thighs, using the tip of his nose to tease you a bit before you feel the wet heat of his tongue through your underwear. Your eyes close and you hum your approval, your hips arching to push against him. 

Together, you and Bucky have soaked your panties--inside and out. It feels good, but you know it could feel better, and as if he reads your mind, he sits back on his heels, looking up at you as he begins to remove the barrier between you. 

“Does it seem like I'm doing this out of obligation?” He asks, and you shake your head, stepping out of your panties and kicking them aside. “I've thought about this probably way more than is considered decent.”

He laughs when he says this, but you know he's being truthful. 

“That makes two of us, then.” You admit, and his smile is dialed up a few hundred degrees. You reach out, tracing his lips with your fingers. “I'm gonna lay down first, though. I have a feeling this mouth is gonna wreck me.”

Bucky follows you to the bed, crawling up and laying on his stomach on the stretch of mattress between your open legs. Using his fingers to hold you open, he lowers his head, gently sucking the part of you that ached for him into his mouth. The air leaves your lungs and you cry out, your head pushing further into the pillow. 

“Is that nice?” He purrs, teasing your opening with a single fingertip. 

You circle your hips a bit, hoping to push the finger in further, but to no avail. “Yes, you ass, you know it is. Don't stop.”

This earns you a chuckle. “Then don't wiggle away.”

He leans forward again, sucking at you a little harder this time, making you keen. It's on the verge of being too much but also not enough, and you're panting; nearly forgetting how to breathe. Bucky alternates between long kisses and fast licks; broad stripes of his tongue from top to bottom that have you lifting your hips up off the mattress to try to get him closer.

“Ohhhh my goddd,” you giggle, carding your fingers through his hair. “you're  _ really _ good at this.”

You can feel Bucky’s laugh before you hear it, the deep growl vibrating through you, making goosebumps spread across your heated skin. He adds his fingers again, this time pushing two inside where you're wettest and you can feel it building, higher and higher and he doesn't let up the intensity for a single second. 

“God, that's good,” you groan, pushing up on your elbows to get a better view of the sight you'd envisioned time and time again. 

Only it's better in real life, and from this angle you can see Bucky’s hips moving, grinding against the mattress.

“You like going down on me, Buck?” You ask, grinning when his eyes opened to look up at you. You point with your chin to where he’s still moving slightly against the bed. “This making your dick hard?” 

Bucky’s eyes roll back in his head. “Mmm hmm,”

You're not sure why his admission had such an effect on you, but it had you coming in seconds, Bucky’s mouth staying on you the entire time as you rode it out. When he finally pulls away you can barely keep your eyes open, draping a forearm over your face as you close your legs to calm the post-orgasmic tingling. 

“You alive?” Bucky asks with a chuckle, lifting your arm to peek at your face. 

You force your eyes open, noticing that he's now standing by the bed. “Shower and an orgasm. That's my new bedtime routine. I'm exhausted.”

“Sounds good,” he agrees, bending to kiss your forehead. “Get some rest.”

“Hey, wait,” you grab for his arm as he starts for the door. “Don't you want me to…”

Bucky shakes his head, pressing a hand to the bulge in the front of his sweatpants. “This was for you.”

You’re too tired to focus on being bummed by his denial of reciprocation, so instead you both say  goodnight and Bucky slips out into the hall. 

He makes a bee-line to the bathroom, leaning on the sink as he looks himself in the mirror again. His lips are red and swollen, shiny down to his chin with your arousal and his eyes are dark, completely lust-blown. 

“Fuck,” Bucky hisses, quickly turning on the water to wash your scent off his fingers and your taste from his lips. He dries his mouth with the hand towel before trying to tame the hair you’d messed with your rough hands, giving up after mere seconds. “ _ Fuck.” _

He was screwed.


	4. Chapter 4

**Saturday Morning**

 

You chase the remaining pieces of circular cereal in your bowl with your spoon, slowly swiveling the seat of the bar stool from side to side as you finished your breakfast in silence. The silence was so you could think, internally freak out over what happened last night. Over what  _ you let  _ happen last night. 

You'd woken up without panties, the skin between your legs uncomfortably wet. The small lamp on your dresser was still on, too, something that, although it’s dim, would have emitted too much light for someone who prefers sleeping in the dark. 

Last night seemed like a dream. Well, the parts  _ after _ your date from hell, anyway. That was very real. 

You’d always been attracted to Bucky and known of his attraction to you, as well. But you’d both decided in the beginning that sex would compromise the roommate situation you had going, not to mention that both of you were already horizontally acquainted with other people. Hell, neither of you had even  _ kissed _ each other. But last night--oh last night--had Bucky really done that? Just come into your room and…

You place a hand to your mouth and close your eyes, remembering how amazing his tongue felt sliding on your slick skin, how his fingers felt moving deep inside of you, how those disarmingly blue-gray eyes looked as they stared up at you from between your legs. 

The sound of bare feet slapping against tile pulls you from your memory, and you look up just in time to see a sleep-rumpled Bucky pad into the kitchen. He’s scratching the back of his head, making the dark mop of hair even more wild as he heads directly for the coffee maker. 

You get up and rinse your bowl in the sink, watching from the corner of your eye as Bucky pours coffee into his mug. His movements are slow, sleep apparently still weighing down his limbs as he adds some cream and more sugar than any one human should consume in one day.

“You sleep okay?” You ask, deciding to break the awkward silence. 

Bucky jumps a bit, his eyebrows rising, pulling his eyelids with them as though he hadn't even noticed anyone in the kitchen with him. He just shrugs, setting down the spoon he used to stir his coffee before raising the mug to his mouth. After a slow sip, his eyes roll closed and he hums his appreciation, the morning drug already working its magic. 

_ That sound. _

That's the sound he made when you’d asked if he was hard, the same expression he’d made as he licked into you, the act turning him on just as much as it had you.

“Look, last night--” Bucky starts, unable to look at you as he runs a fingertip around the lip of his mug. 

You turn from where you’d busied yourself emptying the dishwasher, holding up a stopping hand. “Buck, listen. We don't need to hash anything out about last night.”

“We don't?”

You shake your head, downplaying everything to take some pressure off him. “I know why you did it, and you're a good friend for helping me out.” 

Bucky frowns at this, but plays along anyways, choosing his words carefully. “Not a problem. Clearly wasn't a chore for me.”

You smile and he tosses you a wink, making your skin heat up. “I just feel bad, I wish you would have let me--”

Bucky shakes his head, holding up his hand and wiggling his fingers. “I've got hands, doll face. And besides, like I said last night, it was about you, not me.”

“Well, thanks,” you say softly, returning his smile. “You've got Natasha tonight anyways.”

“Yeah…”

“Speaking of...she texted earlier. You left your phone in the living room last night,” you inform him, pointing to the far end of the counter as you head for the kitchen’s exit. “I plugged it in over there.”

Coffee in hand, Bucky goes quickly to his phone, needing to see what text message you could have seen. It  _ was _ Saturday after all, and part of what made Bucky’s interactions with Nat so hot was the anticipation, the teasing in the hours leading up to their fuck. Natasha’s weapon of choice was sexting; the dirtier the better. 

His heart raced as he picked up his phone, quickly pressing the button to light up the screen. Natasha had texted all right, scrollable amounts; detailed descriptions of what she was going to do to him, what she wanted him to try with her. Bucky’s blood cools as he skims them, words that on any normal day would have had him sporting a semi, now only made him feel like an asshole. 

He knew there was no way to ask, but he was dying to know what you’d seen. 

 

**Saturday Evening**

 

“I know it's wrong, but I read them all. They were so graphic, Peggy.” You say into the phone, having called your best friend once Bucky had left for the night. “Like, porn transcript graphic.” 

“Gross,” she agrees, making a disgusted sound.

“He was just so casual about it this morning, ya know? He's all ‘Don't worry, I jerked off and I get to hook up with Natasha later, so it's fine.’”

“He said that?!” She shrieks. 

“Well, no, I mean, I said that last part,” you admit, pacing in your bedroom. “But he agreed with me. Then by the time I got out of the shower he had gone back to bed. I didn't see him again until he was leaving for her place, earlier than usual.” You fall back on your bed, covering your head with a pillow. “Probably wanted to get a head start on the fucking  _ list _ she’d sent him.”

Peggy’s quiet, letting the emotions settle for a beat before offering her help. “So let me get this straight. You go out with some idiot, have a sucky time and miserable sex, and then you come home to your fuckhot roommate that you've fantasized about screwing many times, and he literally devours you until you're comatose in your bed?”

“In a nutshell, yes.”

With a laugh, Peggy asks, “I'm sorry, love, I'm failing to see the issue. The pair of you are all about no-strings fucking, why do you think it won't work for you?”

You launch your pillow across the room. “The issue is I'm sitting here alone while he's out Christian Grey-ing it up with fucking Natasha!”

She makes a sympathetic sound, feeling bad that you're so conflicted. “What is it that you want, honey? What can I do?”

You sit up, tracing the stitching on your comforter with your thumb nail as you consider her questions. “I want you to find me a good guy to date.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Saturday Night**

 

“I'm screwed,” Bucky says simply, letting his pool cue fall back and forth from hand to hand as he sat perched on the bar stool in Sam’s dining room. “One taste of her and-- _ BAM _ \--fucked.”

“No, you should be  _ getting  _ fucked, like, right now,” Sam volleys back, taking, and sinking his shot. “Natasha’s a fucking goddess, man, and you're  _ here? _ ”

Bucky sighs, ignoring the way Sam’s hands moved through the air before him as though he was tracing the curves of a woman. “You don't understand.”

“You're right, I don't.” Sam misses his next shot, cursing as he steps back to let Steve take his turn. “You fucked around with your roommate last night so now you've suddenly had a Come to Jesus moment about your other fuck buddies?”

Bucky frowns, not appreciating the way Sam seemed to lump you in with Wanda and Natasha. He opens his mouth to tell him that he had the situation pegged all wrong, that it wasn't like that, but after another moment of consideration, he nods. It  _ was _ like that. It  _ is  _ like that. 

Bucky had been feeling a sort of disconnect with his lovers lately, but he’d never been able to put his finger on the reason why the sex was suddenly stale. Things with Wanda were always emotionally intense, giving Bucky the affection his body craved. And things with Natasha were physically intense, allowing Bucky to give into some of his wilder fantasies and try new things. 

He was pretty sure that Wanda loved him, something he had made clear was never his intention from the get-go. She claimed she was fine with just sex, but over time, he could see that she wasn't. She was constantly making herself available for him outside of Tuesdays, offering dinner and movies and actual dates, but Bucky always said no. Hurt feelings were never part of the plan, so he did what he had to do.

“I broke things off with Wanda.” Bucky blurts, gaining both Sam and Steve’s surprised attention. “Last Tuesday. She was--it was getting to be too much.”

“You ended things with Wanda  _ before _ things happened last night?” Steve asks, eyebrows up to his hairline. 

“She wants what I'm not offering,” Bucky shrugs. 

“Well, at least not offering to  _ her.”  _ Steve corrects, giving Bucky a knowing look. 

Bucky nods back, knowing that if it were you asking him to spend the night in your bed, to snuggle until you fell asleep, to look you in the eye as moved above you,  _ inside  _ you, that he would do it without hesitation. Steve knew this. Probably almost expected it, being the romantic that he is. But Sam, a lifelong bachelor, couldn't understand why anyone would settle down when there's so many beautiful women out there willing to share.

“I get it, Buck,” Steve continues, leaning over the green felt table to line up his shot. “I could see you two going domesticated from a mile away.”

Sam shakes his head. “So you just done then? No more scheduling sex?”

“I don't know. I haven't actually ended things with Tasha, I just...I mean, I should, right?” He answers, looking to his best friends for guidance. 

“But you're not even sure she even  _ likes _ you. Sure, she liked you eating her pussy, what girl doesn't like that?” Steve rolls his eyes at Sam’s crassness. “But what if that's it? She's just using your attraction to her for her advantage. You really want to be without your back ups?”

Steve takes a defensive step forward. “Hey, she's not like that, Sam. I've known her for a long time, she’s not one to fuck with someone’s head. Especially someone she cares about.”

Sam holds up his hands in apology. “All I'm saying is that's some thin fuckin’ ice you're skating, man, not knowing.”

“Why don't you just tell her?” Steve suggests, pointing his pool cue towards the far corner pocket, effectively ‘calling’ his upcoming shot on the 8 ball. “You've said before that there's always that layer of sexual tension between the two of you...maybe she's interested in resolving it as well?”

“I can't do that!” Bucky says, way louder than he's intended. He pauses a minute as Steve celebrates his victory and Sam laments his loss. “I just don't want to mess things up. I’ve never been so comfortable with a woman I wasn't banging before. I just really like her.”

“Well, you know that saying, ‘you are what you eat’,” Sam says, reaching into his pocket and slapping a fifty dollar bill into Steve’s waiting hand. He points his stick at Bucky. “Now stop your whining and get over here so I can make my money back.”

Bucky sighs, giving into a little smirk. Sam always gave him shit about how bad he was at pool, but he got up anyways, rounding the pool table as Sam racked up the balls. Sam was laughing quietly to himself and Bucky rolled his eyes, grabbing the blue chalk block to cover the end of his stick. But then it hit him:

_ ‘You are what you eat,’ _

“Hey!” Bucky whines, looking up quickly and finding two sets of amused eyes staring back at him. “Are you calling me a pussy?”


	6. Chapter 6

**Tuesday Evening**

 

The next few days carried on as usual, although neither one of you had offered much conversation about your Saturday night activities. Bucky decided not to mention that he had bailed on Natasha and spent the evening losing money to his friends and you thought it best not to let Bucky know that Peggy was currently finding you a new man to date. 

When Tuesday rolled around you were surprised to find out that Bucky was staying home, telling you that Wanda was out of town, so he had a free evening. You found yourself smiling at the news, not sure whether it was due to having his company all night or the fact that he wouldn't be with  _ her. _

_ “Looks like you're stuck with me,” he’d said. “What were your plans for the night? What's a usual Tuesday night without me?” _

_ “Take-out, wine and a bubble bath.” You told him, laughing when he went directly to the drawer full of take-out menus, taking them out and fanning them like cards in his hand. “I was thinking Chinese.” _

That's how you ended up sitting cross-legged on the living room floor a few hours later with nearly a dozen containers of all your favorite Chinese food spread out on the coffee table. 

Bucky cracks open a fortune cookie, tossing one of the broken pieces into his mouth as he reads the fortune. “‘Every exit is an entrance to new experiences.’”

“In bed.” You add, cheekily. 

“What the fuck kind of fortune is that?” Bucky laughs, reading it again. “This cookie is basically advocating anal sex.” 

You lean back against the couch, covering your mouth with your hand as you laugh. “Have you ever done that though? Like, with a girl?”

“Well, I certainly haven't done it with a guy,” he answers, throwing a cookie package at your face. 

You pick it up off the floor after deflecting it with your hand and pop open the wrapper. “So you have?” Bucky nods and you make a wry face. “And you don't think about how you're in--”

“No.” He interrupts, playfully rolling his eyes. “You can turn your mind off to that when the sex is good.” He can tell you're still not convinced. “You should try it sometimes. I bet you'd like it.”

You ignore him, breaking open a cookie of your own and reading it silently in your head. “Oh, come on!” 

“Read it!” Bucky yells, reaching for the little paper in your hand. “You have to read it out loud!”

You sigh heavily, leaning out of his reach. “‘Now is the time to try something new.’”

“In bed!” Bucky laughs, pointing a finger in your face that you slap away. “It's an omen, sweetness. Anal is in your future.”

“There's two left,” you say, ignoring his stupidity. You hand him one and take the other for yourself. “Your turn.”

“‘You will get what your heart desires.’” 

“ _ Oooh _ ,” you coo, nudging him with an elbow. “What does your heart desire  _ in bed _ .”

His elbow nudges you back and he leans closer. “Something new.”

He punctuates his answer with a wink and you feel your heart skip, something you thought only existed in cheesy romance novels. 

_ Fuck, why was he having this effect on you? _

You open your last cookie and shake your head as you cough out a laugh. “These cookies are relentless. ‘Something wonderful is about to happen to you... _ in bed _ .”

Bucky laughs outright at this, his hand coming up to keep the chewed up cookie from escaping his mouth as he did so. “There's the anal again.”

“No,” you insist firmly, standing up and brushing crumbs from your lap. “No, it's not about ‘the anal’. The something wonderful is the bubble bath that I'm heading to right now.”

He springs to his feet, jogging down the hall as he calls back to you. “Great idea! You get the wine, I'll fill the tub.”

“You're not joining me.” You state simply, giving him an incredulous look.

Bucky looks wounded in return, slowing bringing his hand to hover over his chest. “But what if a bubble bath is what my heart desires?”

 

**

 

The gigantic cast iron clawfoot tub was what initially sold you on the apartment a few years ago when you moved in here with Peggy. And even after countless baths in it, you still find yourself marveling at the fact that some adults go through life without a tub they can properly fit in to relax. This one was big enough for two adults. Well, mostly. 

You'd given in to sharing your bubble bath with Bucky when he promised you a foot rub, telling him that as long as he promised not to peek when you got in and kept his limbs as ‘to himself’ as possible, you would give it a shot. He’d made an argument about how he had already seen almost everything anyways, but didn't push it when you threatened to take back your invite.

You sat facing each other with Bucky’s legs caging you in; the tops of his knees just barely above water where they were bent beside yours. His hands were busy, slowly massaging the arches of your feet as the two of you drank and talked and drank some more. The flickering candle on the windowsill was the only light source in the room, creating an atmosphere that could easily be considered romantic. But this was you and Bucky. Romance wasn't on the table.

After a while, you'd both relaxed to the point of silence; heads back and eyes closed, just listening to the surface bubbles pop. And after a little while, still, the water began to cool and you decided it was time to get out. 

You lifted a well-massaged foot from the water, tapping Bucky in the face with it. “Hey, wake up. We’re starting to prune, let's get out.”

He flinches, grabbing your foot before you could pull it back. He tugs you a bit closer, and with his eyes on you, he places a soft kiss just above your ankle. “You're right.”

Without another word Bucky stands up, giving you a full-frontal view of him, all wet and naked as he stepped out. Because it caught you off guard, it took you a moment to blink away, your mind immediately replaying the sight in your memory. You’d seen him shirtless countless times before, always appreciating his firm pecs with dark, perky nipples and his flat stomach with the perfect amount of abdominal definition, but everything south of that was new.

The muscles in his thighs were incredible, so thick and toned. As for what was between them? Well,  _ thick _ could describe that, too. Bucky was a manscaper, a fact you found yourself smiling at, knowing he was such a considerate lover. 

“I'll go clean up while you get out,” he said, pulling you from your memories yet again. He pulled a brush through his hair as he looked in the mirror, clad only in a low-slung towel on his hips. “Wanna do a movie before bed? Or,  _ ooh _ , Stranger Things? Sam says we should watch that.”

“Sure,” you nod, crossing your arms over your chest. Without Bucky’s body heat, the tub felt even colder. Speaking of Bucky’s body, it looked incredible right now; the way his muscles moved as he did...you couldn't stop staring. “Stop primping and go already so I can get out and get dressed.” 

He laughs, tossing your towel to the floor by the tub. “Make sure you wear my college shirt again,” he suggested, tossing you a wink before slipping out of the bathroom. “Looks so good on you.”

Your body heated instantly at his words, remembering exactly what happened last time you wore that shirt around him. And as if  _ it  _ remembered as well, you felt a familiar ache between your legs. 

_ Damn it.  _ You were so screwed. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Tuesday Night still**

 

You take your time getting dressed, the sounds of Bucky still banging around in the kitchen letting you know that you're not really keeping him waiting. 

Your mind is still going a little crazy with the shift in your relationship with Bucky over the last week or so. The attraction had been there since day one and the easy friendship began almost instantly as well. Over the past year, your closeness provided a certain comfort, one that always toed the line of sexual, but never actually got there. 

Until a few days ago. 

And since then, you found yourself thinking about it almost non-stop; your imagination manipulating that night he came into your room and taking it in different directions. Sometimes you’d imagine that you’d had sex. Mind-blowing, multiple-orgasm-inducing sex. But mostly you’d imagined what it would have been like if he would have let you return the oral favor. 

*

The living room was cleaned up when you walked out; the big, fluffy blanket Bucky’s mom bought you for a Christmas is waiting on the couch and Stranger Things is all queued up on the TV. The only light on in the apartment is in the kitchen, where you hear Bucky humming. 

You smile as you head his way, recognizing the song as  _ Toxic _ by Britney Spears, but before you could make fun of him for it, you're distracted by the view. Bucky’s standing back-to, oblivious to your presence as he works the corkscrew into a new bottle of wine. He's shirtless and barefoot, dressed only in a pair of well-worn navy blue sweatpants. The muscle movement in his back and shoulders is hypnotic and before you can talk yourself out of it, you make your way towards him.

Bucky must have heard your bare feet on the tiles because he's not surprised when you wrap your arms around his waist, a gesture that's not unfamiliar from you. 

“Do you want popcorn or anything?” He asks as he finishes pouring the wine. He reaches behind him, wrapping his arms around you to squeeze you closer. “I wasn't sure how full you were from dinner.”

You press your lips to his back and slide a hand down, lightly rubbing him through his pants. Bucky releases you but doesn't stop you, instead just places both palms flat on the counter in front of him. You move your hand with a little more pressure and his dick responds immediately, making Bucky drop his head.

“You can tell me to stop…” you say against his skin, closing your eyes and mentally praying that he doesn't. 

He's silent except for a soft sigh, something you take as a good sign. He's getting hard fast, his breathing picking up as his hips flexed a bit into your palm. Emboldened, you wrap your fingers around him, feeling the length of him throb and stiffen further. 

“Turn around,” you order, and he hesitates, making you think for a horrifying second that maybe he  _ didn't  _ want this. 

You take a step back and Bucky turns, his eyes meeting yours in that same, devious way they did in your bedroom the other day. He quirks an eyebrow, the left side of his mouth pulling up into a smirk that's both curious and challenging. You move to your knees, sitting back on your heels as you tug on his sweatpants, pulling the elastic waistband over the part of him straining for contact. 

“What’s this for?” Bucky rasps, hissing and gripping the edge of the counter with both hands when you wrap a warm fist around his shaft. 

“Returning the favor,” you say sweetly, moving aside and slowly stroking his dick as you leaned in to kiss the skin of his hips. Your tongue traced one side of his v line at the same time your thumb swiped across his sensitive head, making his hips jerk. 

“I told you-- _ mmf _ \--I said you didn't have…” he trails off when your mouth is on him, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses from his base to his tip. “Well, I mean, if you want.”

You let out a soft laugh before guiding him into your mouth, taking him in deep then using your hand to spread the saliva down his length. He leaked a bit at the tip and you're not sure which of you moaned louder, because the clean, salty-sweet taste of him was incredible.

You closed your eyes, focusing on the velvety feel of his skin, the sound of his labored breathing and soft, restrained sounds. You relaxed your throat, taking him all the way in until your nose brushed against the neatly groomed hair at his base. When he was in your throat, you swallowed and Bucky cursed, his fist pounding on the counter as your throat contracted around him. You gagged and pulled off him, his cock soaked and slick as you pumped him fast in your fist. 

“Holy fuck,” Bucky said on a shaky exhale. He reached forward, one hand cupping your jaw while the fingers from the other traced your red, wet lips. His thumb slips between your lips, pulling your mouth open. “Damn, this mouth. Incredible.”

You smile, his thumb still on your lip. “Do you want to come in it?”

Bucky’s dick twitched at your words, and his jaw dropped before he mumbled something about how you had ruined him. He guided you closer, and you opened wide, slipping him back into your wet heat. He keeps his hands on the back of your head, not forceful, just resting there, moving with every bob of your head. His hips rock on their own accord, fucking slowly into your mouth as his pleasure begins to spike. 

He warns you that he’s almost there, but he didn't need to; his sounds were getting closer together and his movements lost rhythm so you knew he was close. You reach your free hand between his legs to play with his balls, cupping them gently and sliding your finger along the sensitive spot behind them. 

Bucky leans forward, arching over you as he finds his release. The way he pants your name in between breathless grunts and moans has you squirming, because, _ fuck _ , he makes the best sounds when he comes.

When you stand, Bucky slumps against the counter, chest heaving as he works to steady his breath. You laugh a bit, even though your heart is pounding as well and you feel unsteady on your feet. You won't tell him that, of course, instead, you just reach around him to pluck one of the wine glasses from the counter. You drain half the glass in one gulp, and he watches you the whole time. More specifically, he watches  _ your mouth _ .

“What?” You ask playfully, voice coming out much steadier than you felt.

Bucky just shakes his head, forcing himself to stand up straighter. He takes his own glass, finishing his off in two large mouthfuls before pointing to the kitchen island behind you. “There was another one. It was in the bottom of the take-out bag.”

You turn and find another fortune cookie. “Wanna share this one?” 

Bucky shrugs as he refills both the wine glasses. “Is that even legal?”

Ignoring him, you pop open the package, holding up the folded cookie to suggest Bucky take one side so the two of you can break it like a wishbone. With a smirk, he does, a few bits of cookie falling to the floor as it cracks open. Bucky’s half has the fortune and he reads it out loud:

“‘Your love life will soon be happy and harmonious.’”

Small smiles stretch across both your faces as you look at each other, childishly saying “in bed” at the same time. But your gazes linger just a second too long before you step away, seeming to remember yourself. 

“Popcorn actually sounds good,” you suggest, grabbing your wine and heading for the living room. 

Bucky doesn't complain, actually grateful for the three minutes alone this will grant him. Things were getting a little out of control with you lately; the oral, the bath, more oral. He knows just how happy and harmonious his love life would be with you in  _ and _ out of bed, but he's still not completely sure where you stand on the matter. 

The blow job tonight was,  _ wow, _ but was that all it was, returning the favor? Bucky watched the popcorn spin on the microwave plate, convincing himself that the only way to find out for sure was to take Steve’s advice and talk to you. But not tonight. There was still one thing he needed to take care of first. 

You slumped down on the couch, mentally chastising yourself over your impulsive decision just moments ago. No matter how much wine you swish around in your mouth, you can still taste him. Not that it's unpleasant, it's just...a lot. 

And then that fortune cookie! You can't help but think about what it would be like to stop the pointless dating and give things a real go with Bucky, and now that cookie seemed to rub it in your face, reminding you that,  _ no _ , you can't have this one. 

You grab your phone off the end table, deciding to distract yourself with social media until Bucky gets back, but when your screen lights up, you notice you missed a phone call and a text from Peggy about an hour ago. 

_ “Clear your schedule for Saturday night! Tony Stark, that wealthy, handsome man who works with me will be picking you up at 7 for dinner. Call me back for details. xx” _

Your thumbs hover over the screen, doing a little dance above the keyboard as you contemplate possible responses. 

_ “About that...maybe take a rain check? I'll call you tomorrow, but I think I might finally tell Bucky how I feel.” _

You typed it, but didn't send it, instead read the words over and over until movement caught your attention. Bucky walked back into the living room, popcorn and wine in hand with a big, blissful smile on his face. It was infectious, forcing a smile of your own to form as he plopped himself down next to you and got under the blanket. 

“Not gonna lie, I'm kinda glad Wanda wasn't home tonight,” he admits, winking at you as he tosses a handful of popcorn into his mouth.

His words wash over you like a cold shower. Tonight was Tuesday, his usual night with Wanda. And you just basically filled in for her. You hold your thumb down on the backspace key until all the words you’d typed are erased. Instead, you type a new message, and this one you actually sent. 

_ “Great! Thank you, I'll call you in the morning. You're the best! ❤” _


	8. Chapter 8

**Saturday Night**

 

Your heels click on the tiled kitchen floor as you pace, pregaming with a glass of wine to ease the sudden nerves. Peggy had set you up on a few blind dates in the past--some good, some not so good--but this date with Tony tonight had you feeling... _ off. _ You had brushed it off as nerves, but you couldn't quite silence the little voice inside of you that that kept telling you this feeling was because of Bucky. 

A low, impressed whistle comes from behind you and you spin around, finding Bucky standing wide-eyed in the entryway between the kitchen and living room. You roll your eyes at his reaction before pacing some more, watching as he made his way to the fridge. 

“You look nice,” he says, bending down to survey the bottom shelf. He pulls out a Tupperware dish with last night’s macaroni and heads towards the microwave. 

You snort. “Take it easy on the compliments, Buck.”

“Stop, I compliment you all the time.” 

“When?” You say on a laugh. “When was the last time?”

“I seem to remember telling you your mouth was incredible the other night,” he says, giving you a cheeky little smirk. 

You give him an exasperated look and his smile grows. He's silent for a beat, and you watch him; spooning out a mound of macaroni onto a plate before putting it in to reheat. It isn't until after he's refrigerated the rest of the leftovers that he speaks again. 

“You’re always beautiful. You’d get tired of hearing it if I said it every time it crossed my mind.”

You toss back the remainder of your wine, drowning any verbal response you had to his words. You secretly loved hearing that, but you didn't want to make things awkward by telling him. Bucky’s a master when it comes to women. He has gotten two, sometimes three, women to be content with sharing him because he's  _ just that good _ . You shouldn't let him get to you like this. 

“Not gonna lie though,  _ you’ve  _ looked better.” You tell him, scrunching up your face when you gesture to his unkempt appearance. 

Bucky carries his steaming hot leftovers and accompanying bread to the kitchen island, setting it down before grabbing a bottle of water. He looks down the length of his body and shrugs. “It's been a long week. My dinner doesn't mind that I skipped a shower today.”

“But won't Natasha?” You look at the clock, seeing it’s nearly 7pm. “Don't you usually leave soon?”

He nods as he chews, seeming to contemplate his response. “Uh, yeah. She texted me earlier though. She said she's not feeling well.”

“Oh,” 

“So, I'm staying in tonight.” He looks you over again, slow and meaningfully. “Unless you want to let me crash your night out with the girls?”

“Night out wi--I'm not going out with the girls tonight.” You tell him just as the door buzzer sounds. You walk over to the intercom, aware of Bucky’s eyes on you the whole time. “Hello?”

“Hey, it’s Tony.” 

Instinctively, you look towards Bucky when your date’s voice comes through the speaker, but he's not looking anymore. His gaze is focused on where he’s forcefully stabbing at the poor macaroni elbows with his fork. 

“I'll be right down,” you reply, stepping away to grab your jacket. “I've got a date tonight, Buck. Peggy’s coworker. She set it up.”

He nods, keeping his head down, and from this angle, you can see his eyebrows rise up as if that fact was obvious. His sudden attitude rankles you a bit, especially considering that had Natasha not cancelled on him tonight, he would be heading out the door as well. 

You're in your jacket and ready to leave and Bucky  _ still _ hadn't spared you another glance. “Well, I'm sorry your plans got ruined for the night. We can finish Stranger Things when I get home if you want?”

He makes a soft humming sound and his left shoulder rises slightly. “If I'm still up.”

“Right.” You agree, watching him for a moment longer before opening the door. “Wish me luck!”

Bucky looks up just as you start to step out, and there's something in his eyes. Something you can't read right off, but paired with his mood, seemed to be a mixture of annoyance and hurt.

“Good night.” His smile is small and tight and as you shut the door, you didn't miss the way that, for the first time ever, he didn't wish you luck. 

*

Bucky stood in the living room window, surreptitiously watching through the curtain of your fifth floor apartment as Tony helped you into his car, and only stepping away when the tail lights of his vehicle mixed with traffic and disappeared down the road.

Jealousy wasn't a feeling Bucky was familiar with, and as it turns out, he didn't handle it well. He tried to busy himself to stop his mind from racing. He loaded the dishwasher, vacuumed the living room, started a load of laundry and even alphabetized the DVD collection according to genre. This only killed an hour. 

After switching the laundry to the dryer, Bucky grew tired of being alone. He searched the apartment for a few minutes, unsure where he had left his phone, and when he found it in his bedroom he unlocked it and stared at the screen, willing his mind to sort itself out. 

He could text Natasha back, tell her that he's feeling better and could still come over, but then he would have to explain how he went from the verge of death to down to fuck in just two hours. She probably wouldn't be up for a possibly contagious screw, anyways. 

Then he thought about Wanda. It’d been nearly two weeks since Bucky ended things with her, and while it had been done gently, damage was done. She cried, and any questions Bucky had about whether or not she had fallen for him were put to rest that night. The fact that he even entertained the idea of contacting her tonight for a feel-good hook up had him immediately feeling like the biggest asshole in the world. She was no longer an option.

Bucky scrolled his contacts, finding the name he was looking for and tapping it to initiate a call. He walked back into the living room, needing movement to keep him from punching something. 

The phone rang six fucking times before Sam answered, whispering firmly. “I swear to God, if you're interrupting my Mom’s birthday dinner to ask me to spy on your girl’s date, I'm kicking your ass.”

Bucky hesitates for a moment before realization hits. “She's there?! With Tony?”

“She's here with some small white dude with a serious goatee, yeah.” Sam answers, seemingly oblivious to Bucky’s mild hysteria. 

“Man, I fucked up.” Bucky says, scrubbing a hand down his face as he drops onto the couch. “Like, fucked. up.”

“Uh, yeah you did. She's lookin’ fine as hell and she's here with another dude, so you clearly haven't talked to her yet.” Sam pauses a moment, remembering what day it is. “ _ And _ you're calling me on a Natasha night...I’d say you definitely fucked up.”

Bucky groans. “I hate you. Just tell me one thing--does she look happy?”

With a sigh, Sam glances back to your table. “She's smiling. He seems to be showing her a good time.”

“Okay, man. Thanks.”

“Talk to her, Buck.” Sam suggests, tone uncharacteristically tender. “Only way she's gonna know where you stand is if you tell her.”

Bucky nods even though Sam can't see him. “Yeah. Well, I'll let you go. Tell your mom happy birthday from me, all right?”

They end the call and Bucky tosses his phone onto the coffee table, dropping his head over the back of the couch. He knows he needs to talk to you, but you've been so cagey about your own feelings that there never seems to be a ‘right’ time. Discussing feelings directly after an orgasm is never the way to go, and the super romantic bath was wrong, too, because it could have been dismissed as tainted by the atmosphere. He certainly wasn't going to accost you after your date and spring all that on you, so his best bet was to go to bed and avoid seeing you at all tonight. 

*

The apartment was dark and quiet when you arrived home just after ten. Bucky was normally a night owl and you couldn't ignore the slight pang of disappointment you felt knowing that he didn't wait up for you, even though you’d expected as much. 

You kicked off your heels and slipped out of your jacket, padding through the dark living room towards the hallway when a soft light grabs your attention. Bucky’s phone had lit up with a new notification on the coffee table, and you sighed as you walked over to pick it up, so typical of him to leave it lying around. 

Because simply lifting an iPhone activates the lock screen, his missed notifications were on display. With a quick glance, you saw your unanswered text from about 40 minutes ago, asking him if he wanted you to bring him home anything to eat, but you also saw Natasha’s name just as it timed out. Curiosity got the better of you and you lit up the screen again, shamelessly reading the message:

_ “Been a long, hard week...really could have used something else hard and long tonight. :( Hope you're feeling better by next week, lover” _

You stop outside Bucky’s closed bedroom door, reading the text over again. Didn't Bucky tell you that Nat cancelled on him earlier because  _ she  _ wasn't feeling well? You wanted to ask him about it, but didn't want to admit to reading his texts. So instead, you snuck quietly into his room, felt blindly around his nightstand for his charger, and plugged in his phone. 

“How was it?” Bucky asks quietly, stopping your retreat. 

You turn and face him, seeing that he’d rolled over to face you as well. “It was okay, I guess.”

“You guess?”

You shrug. “He's nice enough. Really nice, actually.”

“Good,” Bucky says around a yawn, dropping his head back to his pillow and snuggling back in. 

“Yeah. He just wasn't…” you start, unable to simply drop it like he had. 

This gets his attention. “He wasn't  _ what? _ ”

_ He wasn't you _ , you thought, but definitely didn't say. 

Instead you shake your head, floundering. “I don't know, he's just not what I'm used to dating. That's all.” Bucky shifts a bit, and you can't see it, but you feel his eyes studying you. “Do you want to watch the last episode of Stranger Things?”

Bucky reaches out and grabs his phone, checking the time and swiping Natasha’s message away. “Sure, it's still early.” 

He knew the screen had illuminated his face, so he did his best to bite back the self-satisfied smirk that teased at his lips, knowing that you'd call him on it and in no way did he want to seem pleased at your probably lame date. Especially since he was sure you saw the message from Natasha, and teasing you now would only open the door for questions about that. 

Steve and Sam would kick his ass for this blatant dodge of communication, but this was a conversation for another day. A conversation Bucky planned to have very soon.


	9. Chapter 9

**Tuesday Evening**

 

The next two days had passed in a blur, work and family time usually occupying your Sundays and Mondays, so at the end of the day on Tuesday, you couldn't wait to strip off your work clothes and spend the rest of the evening being comfortable. Bucky always got home before you, and was already settled in on the couch playing X-Box as you walked in. 

“Hey,” he says, voice monotone as he barely spares you a glance over his shoulder. 

You stand behind the couch, starting on the buttons of your blouse while watching him play. “You mind if I jump in the shower before you? I’ll be fast.”

“Fine with me, no ne- _ fuck!”  _ He shouts when his player in whatever first-person shooter game he's playing gets shot and killed. He turns to you as the game resets, shaking his head. “No need to rush.”

With a nod, you head towards the bathroom, slightly confused with his answer. It  _ was _ Tuesday, after all, and since Wanda was out of town last week, you think her clingy-ass would have invited Bucky over earlier to make up for the time they missed. Yet, here it was already past six and he was still in work clothes, playing video games. 

You showered quickly, damn near sprinting into your bedroom to get dressed and look presentable. Lately, you’d made a habit of scheduling your dates around Bucky’s, telling yourself it was because those nights were best for you, but deep down you knew it was so you weren't left home alone, imagining what kinds of activities he was up to with his ladies. 

Tony was coming over tonight. You weren't sure exactly where things would go with him, but when he texted you Monday afternoon asking to see you again, you decided to give it another shot. Because work had been hectic, you suggested a quiet night in, just pizza and a movie. He quickly accepted, agreeing to your proposed day and time as well. 

You didn't fuss much with primping, and dressed casually in jeans and a t-shirt, slipping your arms into a gray cardigan as you walked back out to the living room around seven. You were pretty sure Bucky hadn't moved at all since you saw him last, but the fresh bottle of beer on the coffee table in front of him proved you wrong. 

“Wanda still out of town?” You ask, gliding around the living room to tidy up a bit. 

Bucky pauses his game, setting the wireless controller down and picking up his drink. “Ah, no. But I'm actually not seeing her tonight.” He pauses, taking a long pull from his beer as you shoot him a confused look. “Or again, really. I ended things with her.”

“Really?” You say, only moderately surprised. He had mentioned how she was becoming clingy, and you knew Bucky was not interested in love and relationships. You were actually kind of surprised it took him  _ this  _ long to do it. 

“Yeah, we wanted different things.” He says with a shrug, and it's not a lie. They  _ did _ want different things. She wanted him and he wanted  _ you. _

“I told you, Buck,” you admonish as you fold up your blanket and drape it over the back of the comfy armchair. “I told you from the beginning; I knew that girl was too emotional to handle what you were offering.”

You knew this because you had actually met Wanda on a few occasions, immediately seeing yourself in her. She was sweet and intelligent and you could tell just by the way she looked at him that she was invested in  _ him _ , not just his body. Bucky didn't listen back then, though, assuring you that she knew what this was and would let him know if it was too much for her. You knew she wouldn't, but there was no changing his mind. 

“So, you giving Nat Tuesdays as well, or planning to go out and take applications for the vacancy?” 

Bucky’s eyebrows quirk up a bit at this. He laughs dryly, rubbing a palm over the back of his neck. “I ended things with Tasha as well.”

This news is significantly more shocking. “Wait, what?”

“Well, I guess I haven't officially  _ ended _ things with her, but to me it's done. I haven't seen her in a few weeks.” Bucky explains in a rush. You move to sit next to him and he turns, bending his knee on the couch between you. “I just--can we talk for a minute?”

You can feel your heart race as you nod, doing your best to steady your tone before speaking. “Of course, Buck. What's up?”

“So, I've been talking a lot with Sam and Steve, and--”

“ _ Heeeeere _ we go,” you sigh, throwing your hands in the air. “I gave Peggy Steve’s number, I'm not going to hound her to call him.” 

“It's not about that,” he laughs, looking down as he traces the seam on the leg of his slacks. “I’ve been telling them about the changes I was making, y’know, with my relationships, and I had mentioned how you and I had been spending a little more time together lately…”

Your face heats up when he looks up because you know exactly what had happened between the two of you in that extra time together. You nod to urge him on even though you're pretty sure you have an idea of where this conversation is going. 

“...and, well, they agree that there's some things we--me and you--need to talk about. So, if you wanted to maybe--” The door buzzer sounds and you both look towards the kitchen. “Expecting somebody?”

_ Shit _ ,  _ you almost forgot.  _

You jump to your feet, wiping a hand over your mouth. “Uh, I am actually. Tony.”

“The guy from the other night?” Bucky asks, turning on the couch to watch as you head to the kitchen. “I thought you said he wasn't your type?”

“Hey, Tony, come on up.” You hold the button down to buzz him through the security door in the downstairs lobby, knowing that you only had about two minutes before the elevator delivered Tony to your door. 

“Yeah, I said that, but it was only one date. I've got to give the guy a chance.” You stand in the entryway between the kitchen and living room, eyes pleading when you look at Bucky. “I told him tonight would be a good night to come over, since I figured you’d be...yeah.”

This launches Bucky into action, standing from the couch to shut off his game. “Of course, I'll just go to Sam’s or something. I'm sure he's--”

“But what were you gonna say?”

There's a knock on your door and Bucky sighs, grabbing his beer bottle and walking past you into the kitchen. “It can wait.”

“ _ Buck _ ,” 

He ignores you, grabbing his keys and wallet from the counter and slides them into his pants pocket. With your hand on the doorknob, you watch him step into his boots, not bothering to tie them as he walks back to the living room for his coat.

You let Tony in, taking the pizza and wine from his hands and accepting a kiss on the cheek. He compliments you, eyes appreciating your casual appearance for a moment before they're drawn to the man emerging from the other room. Bucky’s got his coat on, unzipped, and his big, clunky boots with the laces loose, busy on his phone.

“Oh, Tony, this is James. My roommate.” You offer, introducing the men as they stare each other down. 

“Oh, roommate!” Tony says with a quick laugh as he extends his hand to Bucky. You can  _ feel _ the unease between the two men, but are grateful when Bucky returns the handshake. “I'm Tony Stark, the boyfriend.”

Bucky’s head rears back a bit in surprise, eyes wide. He looks at you with an amused grin. “Wow, boyfriend, hm?”

“Dating, yes,” you correct awkwardly, not missing the twitching muscle in Bucky’s jaw as the men shook hands for a beat too long. “We’ll see where things go.”

“You'll have to excuse my shock, James,” Tony says, finally releasing Bucky’s hand. “When she told me she had a roommate I was expecting someone a little more...female.”

“Sorry to disappoint, all male here, buddy.” Bucky smiles tightly, looking between the two of you, and it's awkward. So awkward. “You kids have fun, just text me when it's okay to come back.”

And without another word, Bucky was gone, leaving you feeling unusually bothered and completely uncomfortable with where you’d left things. 


	10. Chapter 10

**Friday Night**

 

Tony only stayed long enough for one movie Tuesday night, leaving around ten o'clock at your suggestion when a headache seemed to get the better of you. It wasn't a complete lie, your head  _ was _ aching, but it was more due to the constant thoughts about your interrupted conversation with Bucky. 

How he’d admitted to ending things with his scheduled hookups and the way that segued into talks about the quality time you two had been spending together. And then the look on his face when Tony showed up. You and Bucky never hid the attraction you had for each other and over the past year, you’d both fallen into a comfortable, casual intimacy. The fact that there was even a possibility that the polyamorous object of your affection _ might  _ actually be interested in something monogamous with you had your mind--and your heart--working overtime.

The door had barely closed behind Tony before you had your text sent to Bucky, telling him that he was clear to come home and that you'd wait up for him if he wanted to finish the conversation from earlier. But he never responded. In fact, he must have stayed the night at Sam’s, because when you woke up to your alarm for work, you were still on the couch, clutching your phone. 

It was almost like he made a concentrated effort to  _ not _ be home when he knew you were, something you weren't familiar with. So after over two days of avoiding you, you finally found yourself in the kitchen at the same time as Bucky.

He was leaning back against the island counter with his arms crossed over his chest, just watching his hot pocket spin around in the microwave. You took the moment to observe him undetected. He was still dressed in work clothes, the top few buttons on his white and gray checkered dress shirt undone, but still tucked into his black slacks. His hair was still slicked back with a neat part on one side that made your mind run wild with ideas of how you could mess it up. 

As if he felt your attention on him, he looked towards you, letting out a soft sigh as he gave you a once over of his own. “Hey.”

You smile, stepping the rest of the way into the kitchen. “Hey, yourself, Stranger. Feel like I haven't seen you forever.”

“Yeah, I'm sorry about that. Been a hell of a week.” Bucky says, pushing off the counter when his microwave beeped. He removed his food and ripped a paper towel off the roll before moving to the fridge to grab a beer. 

“You know, it's a wonder how you keep your body looking the way it does with all the junk you eat,” you say with a laugh, pointing to the cheese-oozing onto his plate. 

Bucky just shrugs, tapping his free hand on his flat stomach a few times as he leans his hip against the counter. “You look good. Going out with  _ the boyfriend _ tonight?” 

He says the words calmly but he can feel spiders of unease crawling across his skin at the thought. He’d been talking a lot with Sam the past few days, and although Bucky had always sworn to never take relationship advice from Sam, something that he said resonated with him.

_ “Do it right, or not at all.”  _

Basically pointing out what Bucky already knew: it wasn't fair for him to be upset with you for dating someone when, for all intents and purposes, he still had Natasha a mere phone call away. 

“I'm seeing  _ Tony _ again, yes.” You correct, giving him a pointed glare. “What about you? What are your plans for the night?” 

“Just stayin’ in. Probably just kick some 12 year-old’s ass at NFL Madden on X-Box Live.” He answers with a soft laugh. 

“Oh,” you say, suddenly feeling bad that he's going to be alone tonight. Something that generally didn't bother you in the past. “No one coming over?”

His lips curl into a sharp smirk as he opens his beer and lifts the bottle to his mouth, speaking behind it before taking a sip. “I think we both know there's not.”

With a shrug, you drop the conversation and walk over to grab your jacket and slip your feet into your flats. “So, Steve and Peggy are finally going out tonight, hm?”

Bucky nods frantically as he fans his open mouth with a hand, the result of biting into a not-quite-cooled hot pocket. Once he finally forces the scalding food down, he pours a large sip of beer down his throat, blinking against the the wetness in his eyes. You get a good chuckle out of that, shaking your head at his impatience. 

“Yeah,” he says, panting slightly. “Steve’s pumped. Can't believe it took you so long to hook them up.”

“Hey,” you say, holding up defensive hands. “They're both grown adults, I shouldn't have to hold their hands through it. Plus, Peggy and Steve don't seem right for each other.”

“How do you figure?!” Bucky asks with a scoff as he moves into his second hot pocket. 

“Steve’s too...nice. Peggy will eat him alive.” You point out, checking your phone for the time.

Bucky tilts his head, considering this as he chews. “Steve might like it.” He watches you slip into your jacket, feeling his skin prickle with irritation again. “Where are you heading tonight, by the way?”

“Tony’s place, actually. He's working late tonight so I said I would meet him there. My cab should be here any minute.” You walk to the counter, ripping the flap off an envelope before reaching for a pen. “Here’s his address.”

This was routine for you and Bucky. Any time you were going out with a guy, Bucky insisted you give him details, just in case anything happened. You slid the paper across the counter to him and his eyes widen when he realizes the address is in a wealthy neighborhood. 

“Money bags,” he says in a playfully mocking tone. “Should I expect you home tonight?” 

You shrug and Bucky frowns. “Guess we’ll see how it goes.”

“Still not feelin’ this guy?” He asks, stepping closer. 

“I mean, I like him, he's a really good guy, but,” you flounder, unsure of how to word what you really want to say. “maybe he's not good for me?”

“You know you don't  _ have _ to go on the full three dates with dudes you're not into, right?” Bucky tells you, ducking to meet your eyes as you looked down. He reached up, cupping your jaw to angle your face back to his. “I know how much you hate hurting people’s feelings, but if you don't want to go, don't go.”

The moment feels ideal for you to put it all out there, to lay it on the line. You want to stay home and finish your conversation from the other night, the one you were pretty sure was going to be Bucky telling you that he's interested in you, interested in  _ more _ . But the slight uncertainty was enough to make you hesitate. 

“ _ Should _ I stay?” You hedge, stupidly putting the ball in his court again. You stare at him, eyes begging him to give you a reason to stay.

Bucky forces a smile. “I can't make that decision for you, doll face.”

He notices the change in your eyes, the way your shoulders sank a bit as you released the small breath you were holding in anticipation of his response. It killed him, and in that moment, he’d almost done it, almost leaned in to kiss you, take you in his arms and whisper a hundred different reasons for you to stay against your mouth. But Sam’s words echoed in his mind, reminding him of what he needed to do. 

_ Do it right, or not at all. _

As if on cue, the intercom buzzed, presumably with the doorman announcing the arrival of your cab that was to take you to Tony’s. it's like someone opened a window, allowing the cold, winter air to wash over you, effectively breaking whatever spell had locked your gazes. 

Bucky drops his hand, stepping back to give you space. “Don't wanna keep ‘em waiting.” He says in a low voice before clearing his throat. “I’ll see you whenever you get back, okay?”

Your nod is slow and impassive, and without another word, you grab your jacket and walk out the door.

Bucky tosses his plate in the sink, cursing under his breath as he walked into the living room. He grabs his iPhone off the coffee table and stood in the window, looking down to the yellow cab waiting by the curb. He chewed the inside of his bottom lip as he watched you appear from under the building’s lighted awning, and quickly duck into the backseat of the car. 

Once you were out of sight, Bucky accessed the contacts in his phone, finding Natasha and opening a new text thread. 

_ You busy? _

Her response came almost immediately.  _ Not really. What's up? _

Bucky sighed.  _ Come over.  _

_ You're aware it's Friday right? ;) _

_ Painfully _ . He answers, looking down the busy street about six blocks to her apartment building.  _ How quickly can you get here? _

_ Give me fifteen, lover.  _


	11. Chapter 11

**Friday Night still**

 

Bucky leans back on the couch, looking over to where Natasha sits just to his left. Her long legs are curled beneath her and she's holding her wine glass in one hand with the other elbow propped against the back of the couch, holding her head as she stares back at him in silence.

“You know, some kind of response would be nice,” Bucky hinted, looking up to the ceiling as he gestured between them with his free hand. “I know we’re not used to talking with our clothes on, but usually after one person says something, that means it's the other one’s turn. It's called conversation.” 

“I know what conversation is, asshole,” she laughs, smiling when the tense look on Bucky’s face softens a bit at her reaction. “And while I'm still a little pissed that you bailed on me last minute the past few weeks, I get it.”

“I'm sorry about that,” he confessed, scrubbing a hand down his face. “I've been all over the map about this and I've handled shit poorly. I should have just ended things after that first night, but...I dunno, I was confused.”

“Understandable,” she shrugs. “I knew this would happen one day. It happens in all my romance novels when the guy who never wanted  _ more _ suddenly craves it.”

Bucky whips his head in her direction and frowns, brows furrowed as he glares. “This isn't a book, Tasha, it's my fucking life. Hindsight is always so clear, y’know? We liked each other from the beginning but said sleeping together would complicate things.  _ This  _ has complicated things. And I took you and Wanda down with us.”

Nat nods, watching Bucky’s struggle as she tosses back the remainder of her drink. “Listen, Buck, there's nothing you need to fix with me. You're a good guy and deserve to be happy.” She sets her empty glass down and reaches out, touching his forearm. “Yes, things are a little messy right now, but you’re working on fixing it, and I believe you will. You settled things with me and Wanda-- _ in person _ , no less, there's only one thing left to do.”

Bucky groans loudly, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. “Except she's out on a date with some undeserving fuckwit right now, a date she all but told me to ask her not to go on. And I let her go anyways.”

She rubs her hand up and down his back. “Right. But think about how much worse you would feel tomorrow morning if you’d taken her to bed tonight knowing that I was still in the picture?” 

Bucky lifts his head, considering this. “I know, but if she sleeps with Tony tonight…”

“You love her, Buck?” Natasha interrupts, looking him dead in the eye. He nods and she grabs his phone from the couch between them, thrusting it in his direction. “Then tell her! Text her right now, fuck the date.”

“No, no way,” he says, pushing her extended hand away. He stands up, taking both their glasses in his hands. “I can't. I'm not gonna be That Guy.”

She scoffs. “ _ That Guy? _ You said yourself she wanted you to give her a reason. So, give. her. a reason.”

“She sees me as a friend, Tasha.” 

“You won't be satisfied with just friends.”

“I know,” he calls over his shoulder as he moves to the kitchen to refill their glasses. “But I'll take what I can get.”

*

The night air felt colder than usual, and you blamed your nerves. You looked up at the building before you as you stepped out of your cab, your breath creating a silvery puff in front of you as you release a harsh breath. 

Even though Peggy was on a date with Steve tonight, she’d still taken your call on your way to Tony’s. You’d filled her in on the interaction with Bucky tonight, told her how he looked as though he was going to kiss you just moments before he watched you walk out the door. Tony was a great guy, but he wasn't what you wanted. You and Peggy both agreed that it was unfair and a waste of time for you to continue seeing him if your heart was invested elsewhere, so right after you hung up with her, you called him, amicably canceling tonight’s date, and any future ones.

You greet your doorman with a wave as you head to the elevator, pressing the button for the fifth floor. You look up, checking your reflection on the mirrored ceiling, finding yourself smiling wide with excitement and nerves. Peggy had told you to stop being daft; telling you that men are generally too clueless to pick up on subtle hints and that you never needed Bucky to validate your desire to stay home with him by giving you a reason, the fact that you wanted to was reason enough. 

The doors to the elevator opened on your floor, and you stepped out, making your way across the foyer to your front door. You took a deep, confidence-building breath and walked in, finding Bucky in the kitchen. 

He's obviously surprised to see you, looking up quickly from where he was filling glasses of wine on the center island. “What are you--”

“I know a reason why I shouldn't go!” You blurt, still standing in the open doorway.

“What?” 

“I was thinking about it the whole way over to Tony’s, well, longer than that, to be honest, but I was  _ really _ thinking once I left and I…” you stop your babbling when you notice Bucky’s filling two glasses of wine. One of which has a trace of lipstick on the rim. “Is, is someone here?”

Bucky says your name as you rush forward, peeking into the living room to find a nervous looking Natasha on the couch. Bucky’s talking, you know he is, but he sounds like he's underwater with the static buzzing in your ears. Natasha even holds up a hand, telling you she can explain, but there's really nothing you're interested in hearing right now. 

You turn fast, nearly bumping into Bucky who's standing right behind you. He says your name again, placing his hands on your arms in an attempt to get you to listen. You shake him off, uttering a quick apology before heading for the open door, slamming it closed behind you.


	12. Chapter 12

**Friday Night still**

 

Natasha shoves Bucky as she brushes past him into the kitchen, hard enough to make him stumble forward and stop staring at the door like an idiot. His attention instead falls to her as she moves swiftly, grabbing his big, clunky boots and his black jacket and shoving them hard against his chest. 

“She came back to tell you she feels the same way you do, you idiot!” She yells, pointing out the door. “Go!”

Bucky springs into action, stepping into his boots as he slides on his jacket. “Thanks, Tasha. Are you…?”

She waves him off, guiding him towards the door. “I don't live far, I'll be gone by the time you come back.”

With a kiss on her cheek, Bucky rushes out the door, frantically pressing the call button for the elevator. He waits for about five seconds before deciding it's taking too long and heads to the stairwell. He runs down the steps, taking them them two at a time, but by the time he makes it to the lobby, he can see you’ve already got a cab hailed out front.

You pull open the back door only to have Bucky slam it shut before you can move to step inside. You spin on your heel, the snow crunching beneath your feet when you turn to face him. He's winded, his heavy breaths visible in the steamy clouds that surround him. 

“Tell me why you're home.” He demands, keeping his blue eyes locked on yours.

“What?”

“Tell me what you were going to say.”

“Bucky, I shouldn't have--”

Bucky slams his fist on the roof of the cab, shutting you up. “Finish your goddamn sentence!”

“I love you, okay?!” You blurted, using both hands on his chest to shove him backwards. 

The cab driver’s clearly irritated by the treatment of his vehicle, so he rolls down his window and asks if you're still getting in or not. After looking at Bucky for a beat longer, you apologize, sending the cabbie on his way, leaving you alone in the cold with the man you just professed your love for. The man who was still silent. 

“I know that probably freaks you out, but it's the truth.” You admit with a shrug of your shoulders. “You're funny and kind and  _ ridiculously _ sexy, and I know I'm crossing every line we set way back then, but I can't help it.”

From the corner of your eye, you notice Natasha leaving. She glances in your direction quickly before popping the collar of her jacket up as she walks down the sidewalk, head down against the wind. Bucky doesn't notice and he's  _ still  _ not speaking, just staring at you with an almost confused interest, watching you intently as you animatedly confess it all.

“I mean, I was a little thrown off when we never discussed what we did, which I know was my fault, but then the other night you said you ended things with Wanda and Nat--”

“I did,”

“--and you wanted to talk, so I thought that maybe it meant that you felt the same way--”

“I do,”

“--but then you avoided the conversation, avoided  _ me _ , so I figured I was wrong or you'd changed your mind--

“I didn't,”

“--so I decided to keep my date with Tony because I didn't want to embarrass myself by telling you all of this. But I couldn't do it, I just couldn't.”

Bucky grabs your arms and shakes you slightly as he says your name. His tone is firm, commanding your attention. His eyes soften and the sides of his mouth tug up into a small smile when you finally stop rambling, jaw open as you look back at him.

“You're not listening to me, doll face,” he says, softening the blow of his reprimand. 

You stare at him, finally hearing what he was saying:

_ I did _ end things with Wanda and Nat, 

_ I do _ feel the same way, and 

_ I didn't  _ change my mind.

“But Natasha…” you say, pointing in the direction she'd walked off in. 

Bucky shakes his head. “I invited her over  _ to end _ things. In person. I haven't seen Wanda in weeks, but I told her in person as well. They put up with my shit for a long time, they deserved more than a text message.”

It makes sense. Like the good person he is, he respected his lovers enough to go about things the right way. But this has your mind spinning. He hasn't been with either of them since the night in your bedroom. 

“So you're--”

“Done,” he says, finishing your sentence. Bucky’s hands are cold as he holds your face, but you hardly feel it, focusing instead on the warmth of his expression and his words. “And  _ completely _ in love with you.”

Finally-- _ fucking finally _ \--he lowered his mouth onto yours, the heat from his lips warming you from head to toe. It was a slow, sensual kiss; all teasing tongues and brushing lips. He slanted his mouth more fully over yours, making the fit of your lips tighter, allowing the intensity of the kiss to go deeper. Bucky slid one of his hands back to cup your neck as the other dropped to your waist, sliding around to pull you closer to him. You reached a tentative hand up to rest on his cheek, relishing in the scratchy feel of his stubble against your palm. 

After another moment, he broke the kiss, pulling away just enough to look at you. You feel the warm burst of his breath on your face when he coughs out a laugh. “I've wanted to do that for so fuckin’ long.”

You chuckle as you nod, agreeing with his statement. “Me too, I just didn't want to make things awkward between us.”

“Weren’t they already though?” He asks, brushing a snowflake off your cheek. “Didn't we make things awkward by trying  _ not _ to make them awkward?”

You consider this, both of you looking up as snow began to fall in big, consistent flakes. “Yep. We screwed everything up.”

“Maybe,” Bucky says as he tucks you under his arm, leading you back towards your apartment building. “But sometimes being screwed isn't such a bad thing.”

 


End file.
